


It's Okay

by demizorua (orphan_account)



Category: Good Game (TV 2017)
Genre: (it's never explicitly stated but like. He Is), (this started as a vent fic and just kinda Kept Going), (title and description from it's okay by cavetown), Autistic Ryland (Good Game), Autistic Ryland Tate (Good Game), Depression, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Transphobia, M/M, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Thoughts, Trans Alex Taylor, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-04-19 14:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21905683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/demizorua
Summary: And I already can't wait to see how you'll growThere'll be skies as clear as your eyes and grass as soft as your noseAnd I'll tell you all of the things I love about youAnd I'll tell you about all the times that I've smiled because of youAnd you'll realizeIt's okay if you're not okay right nowA Ryland-centric vent fic. Title and description fromIt's OkaybyCavetown.
Relationships: (i wrote it as rylex but it can be seen as platonic if you want!), (it's more of a background element either way), Ryland & Alex Taylor (Good Game), Ryland Tate & Alex Taylor (Good Game), Ryland Tate/Alex Taylor (Good Game), Ryland/Alex Taylor (Good Game)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 47





	1. That One Night

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Vziii for beta reading this for me!!

Ryland stared blankly into the glass of cheap whiskey in front of him, eyes glazed over. The noise and bustle of the bar normally would have driven him from his seat minutes ago, but he could hardly hear any of it over the thrumming of his pulse in his ears.

This was it.

He'd been planning it out for weeks. Not that there was much to plan, really. He just had to make sure he wasn't scheduled for work in the morning, had to make sure nobody would come to find him for a while. He didn't even have a note. No last words, no final message to the world. Why bother with one? It's not like he's going to be missed. 

Rubbing his arm through his ratty long-sleeved shirt, Ryland felt a sharp sting as the rough cloth scraped against his still-open wounds. He'd already tried once tonight, but he couldn't force himself to cut deep enough. Couldn't even do that right. Too much of a coward to go through with the one good thing he'd ever do. Jumping off of a bridge would be easier, but he knew that would only attract attention. God forbid he survived; then he'd be twice as much of an internet laughing stock as he already was. No, he couldn't take the easy way out. He had to be careful about this.

So, here he was. Sitting in some dingy bar, trying to convince himself to knock back as much shitty liquor as he could stomach. Hoping that the alcohol would numb his mind enough to make the cut. One run of the blade ripped out of his cheap shaving razor, that's all it'd take.

Ryland grit his teeth, gripping the glass a little too hard and throwing back the burning liquid, grimacing as it ran down his throat. He hated alcohol, could hardly even stomach the putrid tasting drinks. As he sat there, wondering how to convince himself to order something else, a lanky stranger clumsily collapsed into the stool beside him, tearing him away from his thoughts.

"Heyyy buddy! Wha'cha drinkin'?" Ryland stared incredulously at this strange man. He was clearly drunk, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused, and he was leaning heavily against the bar. His frizzy hair fell haphazardly, framing his narrow face. It was almost impressive; that someone could simultaneously look so attractive and unkempt.

Rolling his eyes, Ryland turned away, staring at nothing in particular. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this. To be fair, he never was, but he was especially not up to dealing with whoever this guy was right now.

"Aww, c'mon! Don' be like that," the stranger said, throwing an arm over Ryland's shoulders. Ryland flinched, glaring harshly at him, but the other man merely grinned in response. "Tell y'what. I'll buy you a drink! Maybe then y'won't be so grumpy!" Before he could respond, the man had already flagged down the bartender, ordering two cheap beers. Ryland sighed, shrugging off the other's arm and standing up. He would've preferred to have been less coherent for his plan, but this level of drunkenness would have to do. There was no way he’d be able to stew in his misery with this guy hanging around.

Ryland turned toward the door, fully intending to leave the drunk stranger without any explanation, but he was quickly stopped by a hand grabbing his wrist. Ryland froze, his arm throbbing with a familiar dull pain.

The man must have noticed his discomfort because, as quickly as it had come, the invasive hand was gone. Against his better judgment, Ryland glanced back at the other, fully expecting to see confusion or pity written all over his face. That, or pure, shitfaced drunkenness. As a result, he was surprised when, instead of that, the other man’s expression appeared to be much more lonely. Desperate, even. He laughed again, and this time Ryland picked up on how strained it sounded.

"Really, man? C'mon, y'can't even stick 'round f'r one beer?" The man was smiling, but Ryland could see the desperation in his eyes. The bar was pretty empty, only a few other groups scattered throughout. This guy was here by himself, likely desperate for companionship, and having already drunk himself stupid.

Ryland hesitated, glancing back towards the door. Clenching his fists, he sighed, moving before he could second-guess his decision again.

He slid back onto the stool.

The unfamiliar man practically lit up, elation clear on his face. Ryland wondered how he could stand showing all of his emotions so openly like that. Taking the beer handed to him by the bartender, Ryland stared down at the bar. Why was he still here? He didn't even _know_ this guy! Despite his better judgment screaming at him to leave, to go back to his shitty apartment, to go jump off a goddamn bridge, publicity be damned, he couldn't bring himself to leave the man. Ryland recognized the pain in his eyes, the loneliness, the fear, and he felt for him. Ryland deserved all the shit he got, but he'd never wish it on anyone else. Except maybe Steamin'. But no one else.

So, here he was, listening to this cute stranger drunkenly ramble on about god-knows-what, draped across Ryland without care. The beer tasted even worse than the hard liquors, but now that he had assigned himself responsibility for the other man, Ryland didn't feel like getting drunk anymore.

"Hey, wha's your name? I can't jus' keep callin you 'cute guy' in m'head…" That was the other thing. The other reason Ryland was so mystified by this extroverted stranger. From the moment he'd sat back down at the bar, this guy had been discreetly flirting with him. In between his fits of drunken giggles and endless tirades, he'd go off on tangents about how handsome he thought Ryland was, and Ryland couldn't even begin to understand that. He decided to set it aside to unpack later, when he isn't serving as 70% of the physical support for a drunk stranger, the countertop filling in for the other 30%.

"Ryland," he answered, hoping the other was too drunk to notice the awkward pause.

"Ryan?" Ryland rolled his eyes, sighing. Why was it so hard for people to get his name right? It's not like he named himself, goddammit!

"Ryland," he snapped, turning his head away. He had intended to ignore the other man for a while, but conversation lulled, and Ryland's curiosity got the better of him. When he glanced back at the stranger, he saw what could only be described as wonder in his eyes as he stared up at Ryland, his head resting on the bar.

"Ryl'nd…" he murmured, eyes drooping slightly. "Tha's a pretty name…" Ryland felt his face heat up, caught off guard by the awestruck sincerity from the other man. "'m name's Alex… not as cool as yours, though…" Alex stretched out, spreading his arms like a cat. "Wish I thought of that one…"

"Ah ah ah, no way," the bartender interjected, tapping the bar by Alex's head. "You can't sleep here again, buddy."

"Again?" Ryland asked, glancing at the bartender, confused. Alex seemed to already be halfway asleep, his face obscured by the mop of hair hanging haphazardly off his head.

"Yeah," the bartender sighed, "the guy's been crashing here for the past few days. Dunno if he has anywhere else to go. I didn't have the heart to kick 'im out, but my boss'll be mad if he's here when she opens again."

Ryland looked down at Alex, who was now lazily tugging at one of his curls. Ryland noticed the tattered backpack leaning against his bar stool, noticed the worn jacket wrapped around his shoulders, noticed the nearly ruined state of his old sneakers. Every part of him was screaming that it didn't matter, it wasn't his problem, urging Ryland to just go home and forget about the lanky man who had wormed his way into his evening. He could hardly afford to care for himself -- he hardly bothered to, frankly -- why bother with this stranger anyway? He'd wasted too much time on him already. It's not his responsibility to take care of some homeless, lonely man.

So what if the pain in his eyes reminded Ryland of his own? So what if he was the first person to make Ryland feel _something_ in months?

"I'll get him outta your hair."

"Huh?" The bartender threw up his eyebrows at Ryland, looking just as bewildered as Ryland felt. "You sure?"

_No, absolutely not, hell fucking no._

Ryland nodded, ignoring the whirlwind of conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling around inside him. The bartender shrugged, turning away from the two indifferently. "Whatever dude, he's not my problem." As Ryland helped the staggering Alex to his feet, the lanky man smiled at him, expression open and trusting.

"Where we goin'?" He mumbled, leaning heavily on Ryland. Ryland hoisted Alex's arm over his shoulder, surprised at how little the man weighed. At the lack of a response, Alex only giggled, stumbling along with Ryland without protest.

As the two stepped out onto the street the cool night air hit them harshly, making both men shiver. Ryland almost wished he had brought a jacket, feeling how Alex's body trembled beside him. He took note of how Alex shifted closer to him, the thin jacket offering little warmth.

By the time they reached the door of his apartment, (after spending a solid 20 minutes struggling to get Alex up the single flight of stairs) Alex was humming quietly to himself. Ryland didn't recognize the tune but easily chalked that up to his general disinterest in music. And life in general.

Leaning Alex against the wall, Ryland pulled his key out of the pocket of his sweatpants, jamming it in the lock and forcing the door open.

"Wha…? Where are we, Ry?" Alex said, finally noticing his surroundings.

"My apartment," Ryland said, helping Alex through the doorway and towards his lumpy couch. "And it's Ryland."

"'s a… nickname…" Alex mumbled, collapsing dramatically on the sofa, face pressed into the cushions. Ryland rolled his eyes, grabbing a shitty, scratchy blanket from the floor and tossing it over Alex. Despite its bad quality, Alex snuggled into it gratefully, clumsily wrapping himself in the fabric. "Why're you… helpin' me?"

"Fuck if I know," Ryland said, rubbing his sleeve harshly. "Don't fuckin… steal anything, I swear to god. Not that there's much of anything to steal, but, still." Alex nodded tiredly, clearly not paying attention. Sighing heavily, Ryland trudged down the hallway to his room, locking the door behind him. As he sat down on his mattress, pulling his hair down, he could hear a faint snoring sound coming from down the hall.

Hopefully this wasn't a huge mistake.


	2. How You'll Grow

It had been almost a year since then, since that night Ryland welcomed Alex into his apartment. Ryland woke up to the smell of smoke the following morning and found Alex apologetically scraping the charred remains of what he assumes must have at one point been food into the garbage. Ryland had sighed, assured the panicking Alex that he wasn’t mad, and they’d talked over stale cereal. Ryland said he could stay on his couch for a few days, Alex assured him that he’d be out of his hair in no time, and they’d left it at that.

Months had gone by, Alex’s things started accumulating in the apartment, and Ryland never told him to leave. How could he? Eventually, Alex started trying to pay rent and, while he was never able to consistently keep up with it, the attempt was appreciated.

Besides, although Alex hadn't known, he’d saved Ryland’s life multiple times. Not just the night they met, but many times successively. Whenever Ryland got out the razor, whenever he’d sit on his bed, a towel on his lap, his arm numb, he’d remember Alex. And every time, that thought alone would keep him from cutting too deep. Even if he couldn't force himself to put the razor away, he'd still be more careful about his actions.

He couldn’t do it, not to Alex. If he left, Alex would be back on the streets, drinking himself to death. He still wasn’t sure why he’d brought this man into his life that night, but now he was committed. Ryland didn’t care if _he_ died, but Alex was different. Alex was _important_.

So, Ryland needed Alex. Alex was the only one who counted on him, even for something as inconsequential as this. Alex was the only one who cared. Nobody liked Ryland, not even Ryland himself. But Alex did, for whatever reason.

So when Alex came home one day, talking about “essports” and a million-dollar prize pool, Ryland ignored the sinking feeling in his gut. If Alex wanted to start an esports team, Ryland would help him. Against his better judgment. If it’d make Alex happy, then Ryland would do it.

* * *

This entire thing was a huge mistake.

Ryland was in his room, the door locked, wet blood staining the dirty towel he kept on his floor. Alex was out in the main area of the apartment, likely drinking in celebration. Esports People had made a name for themselves; they’d entered the public eye. They had a chance. But Ryland wasn’t thinking about that.

All he could think about was that video.

He should’ve known better. He should have known that he’d never be able to redeem himself. That video would follow him for his entire life, reminding him of who he really is. A pathetic, obnoxious loser with anger issues. He can pretend all he wants, but he’ll never change.

He ran the razor across his arm again, hissing at the sharp sting. He just allowed the blood to drip onto the towel, not even caring enough to pressurize the wound. Maybe he’d bleed out if he was lucky. Examining the cut, Ryland sighed, knowing it wasn’t deep enough to do so. Frustrated, he made another series of cuts, still unable to push the blade far enough. What a coward.

A series of uncoordinated knocks on his door dragged Ryland out of his trance, making him jump. Looking up at the door, it took his sluggish mind a few seconds to figure out what it could be.

“Ry? Y’okay, man?” Alex’s voice echoed from behind the thin wood, his words slightly slurred with the effects of alcohol. Ryland stayed quiet, unsure of how to respond. He didn’t sound scared, so he was probably okay, right? But what if something was wrong? Who was he kidding, Alex was fine. He probably just wanted Ryland to come out and drink with him. “I jus’ wanted to apologize.” Wait, what?

Ryland tried to say something, anything, but only a choked, strangled sound escaped. Alex must not have heard him, continuing on.

“I didn’t know ‘bout that whole… video thing. That’s prolly why you didn’t wanna be a part of the esports team.” Ryland was shocked, not knowing how to react. “I jus’… I love ya, man. Some stupid video isn’t gonna… fuckin… change that, y’know? I was a stupid kid too.”

Alex was clearly hesitating, unsure of what to say. Ryland didn’t know what to say either, so he couldn’t judge. He heard shuffling from behind the door and what he assumed was Alex sitting down. Ryland crawled over to the door, leaning back against it. He could almost feel Alex’s presence through the door, and it helped ground him.

"T'be honest… I haven't told you everythin' 'bout my past either… guess we both got secrets." Alex chuckled humorlessly, and Ryland could almost see the distant look in his friend's eyes. He wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t make his voice work. So he just leaned his head back, resting it against the door. They sat in an unsteady silence, both of them just appreciating the distant yet comforting presence of their friend through the door. Ryland could feel his eyelids begin to droop, exhaustion from both the day’s events and blood loss catching up with him. Not having the energy to move to another position or clean anything up, he allowed himself to relax where he was. Slowly drifting off, Ryland faintly registered a soft humming sound, a soothing melody that felt vaguely familiar. Not lucid enough to question the source of the noise, he allowed it to gently lull him to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, Ryland woke up in pain. His back ached, his neck was sore, and his arms throbbed with sharp pain. It took him a while to get his bearings until he remembered the events of the previous night. Sunlight crept through the curtains on his wall, illuminating strips of the messy floor. Groaning, Ryland gingerly cradled his arm, unsteadily climbing to his feet. As he searched the piles littering his room for the spare bottle of water he kept around, he thought he heard shuffling from the other side of the door. Dismissing it as Alex going to the bathroom or something, Ryland kept rifling through dirty clothing until he found what he was looking for: a partially crushed plastic bottle of water. Grabbing the towel he had been using last night, he carefully poured water over the dried blood on his arms, rinsing them to the best of his ability. He'd prefer to clean up in the bathroom but it was too conspicuous, especially with Alex up and about.

Pulling on a fresh shirt, Ryland winced as the fabric brushed against his skin. They'd need to do laundry soon; he was running out of soft long-sleeve shirts. Taking a deep breath he opened his door, stepping out into the apartment.

Alex was on the couch, bong in his lap, splayed out as much as possible. Ryland smiled fondly, his mood instantly improving upon seeing his roommate. Ryland sat down on the opposing loveseat, causing Alex to look over at him, smiling softly.

“Hey buddy,” Alex said, clearly already being at least somewhat high. Ryland nodded at him, rubbing his face tiredly. He needed to eat something, with all the blood he lost last night. But first…

“Hey… Thanks for yesterday, man.” Ryland began, fidgeting with his sleeve. He pointedly avoided looking in Alex’s direction, not sure if he could continue on if he did.

“Yesterday?” Alex’s voice sounded painfully, scarily empty to Ryland, but he kept going.

“Yeah, with the whole… esports thing. It’s a good idea. We might actually like… do well, or something. You're gonna be a good coach.” Unable to take the silence anymore, Ryland stole a glance at his roommate, unsure what to expect.

Alex had a huge grin on his face which, alongside his half-lidded eyes, gave him a genuinely delighted expression, albeit still a little tired. Setting the bong on the coffee table, he shifted himself into a sitting position, facing Ryland fully.

"Aw, I'm glad you came around, Ryland!" Before Ryland realized he was getting up, Alex had already settled in close beside him on the loveseat, an arm draped over his shoulders. "Between you and me, I have no idea what I'm doing," he whispered conspiratorially, "but it's fun doin' this kinda thing with you!" Alex's eyes were sparkling as he leaned over, wrapping his arms around Ryland in a hug. Ryland stiffened, resisting the urge to lean into the embrace, instead leaning slightly away. Alex let go but stayed practically draped over Ryland's lap. Ryland felt his pulse quicken slightly, stunned for a brief moment as he stared down at his roommate. He felt the sudden urge to run his hand through Alex's messy hair but quickly smothered the thought.

"Yeah -- yeah, I agree," Ryland said, starting to stand up slightly. Alex slid off of his lap, stretching out over the whole loveseat while Ryland made his way towards the apartment's kitchenette. "It's gonna be alright," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Grabbing a half-empty box of cereal, Ryland absently rubbed his sleeve, using the pain to ground himself. He felt Alex's eyes on him, but when he turned to look the lanky man was tapping away at his phone.

"Ugh, man, I did _not_ sleep right last night," Alex commented, standing up and stretching dramatically. "My back is _killing me_!"

As Alex trotted off to the inner parts of the apartment, Ryland paused for a moment. Remembering the soreness in his back, he thought back to the rustling he had heard that morning. And now Alex said that his back hurt…

Shaking his head, Ryland pushed that thought out of his mind. There was no point in getting his hopes up over nothing.

Listening to the ambient sounds of Alex getting ready, Ryland shoveled the slightly stale cereal into his mouth. His back was sore, his arms stung, and he felt like he hadn't slept at all. Despite that, Ryland felt better than he had in months; his chest didn't have the same heavy feeling he'd been carrying around for what felt like ages. Maybe it was just because he didn't feel on the verge of passing out anymore, maybe because he hadn't slept this long in months, or maybe it was something else entirely. Whatever it was, it felt nice to feel hopeful for once.

For however long it’d last, that is.


	3. Won't Remember the Last Time

"Sam's gettin' discharged today, 'n Ash says she's gonna help her relax more. I was thinkin' we could maybe do some more stuff as a team. Try 'n bond a little more, y'know?"

Ryland laid back on his bed, counting the stains on his bedroom ceiling. Alex was in the bathroom across the hall, rambling on about this and that as he did whatever it was he did in the mornings. This had quickly become routine for the two of them: Ryland would stay in his room while Alex got ready in the bathroom and then they would switch, Alex sitting in the main room and Ryland in the bathroom.

They both had their secrets but neither man chose to pry, leaving each other's personal space alone. Alex had never been in Ryland's bedroom, and Ryland avoids the corner of the main room where Alex keeps his personal things. This intricate choreography was simply an extension of that mutual respect, avoiding any accidental breaches of privacy by staying out of each other's way.

Ryland rubbed his sleeve, hardly hearing Alex's endless chatter. He appreciated the thought -- Alex wanted to make sure that Ryland knew where he was so he couldn’t be caught off guard by him -- but Ryland had never been able to pay much attention to his stories. Not out of lack of caring, but because of how soothing Alex's voice could be. It tended to fade into the background as a familiar, constant noise that kept the silence from being overwhelming.

Ryland's hand itched with the urge to reach into his bedside drawer. He'd been trying to resist succumbing to his self-harming urges lately, and he'd lasted a full week without fishing out his razor. Ryland wanted to get better, wanted to improve. He wanted to make himself worthy of all the praise he didn't deserve.

It was getting steadily harder to resist the temptation, though. The night after seeing Sam in the hospital he had wanted nothing more than to tear through his skin, to force away the sickening memories that cropped up at the suffocating smell of antiseptic and the sterile beeping of various machines and monitors. Alex had wanted to watch a movie with him that night, though, so Ryland hadn't gotten a chance to sneak away. Despite that, the resurfaced memories still lingered at the edges of his subconscious, taunting Ryland and attempting to convince him to give in.

Ryland's chest began to feel tighter as his hand's path up and down his sleeve grew steadily rougher and more careless. He wasn't going to be able to keep this up. When had he ever stuck to something long enough to mean anything? It was only a matter of time until he faltered, until he failed, until he ruined everything for the umpteenth time.

Lost in thought, Ryland didn't notice when old scabs were torn open, didn't notice blood beginning to ooze out onto his shirt. He didn't notice anything until his hand had grown wet, the warm blood soaking through the thin shirt he wore at night. Pulling his hand back, Ryland stared at the redness coating his palm, watching the thick fluid flow through the grooves in his hand.

All of a sudden, his mind was flooded with thoughts of his failures, of how much of a disappointment he was. The moment he'd allowed himself to think about his pitiful attempt to be a normal human being -- for _once_ \-- he'd gone and fucked it up. How pathetic do you have to be to not even be able to go a week without _physically injuring yourself?_ And he'd done it _on purpose!_ He let everyone down. Everyone who believed in him for whatever reason, he let them down time after time after time.

He had dropped out of college to play _fucking DotA,_ he’d ruined his gaming career because he couldn't act like an adult, and now he just sat around all day like an asshole, burdening everyone who bothered with him with his shitty fake problems. His ex-friends, his family, his _team_… even Alex. He kept disappointing everyone, and yet he couldn't even stop hanging around, dragging the world down with his dead weight. He's a failure, he's a disappointment, he's _pathetic_…

"Ry?" Alex called, knocking on the wall beside Ryland's bedroom for the third time. "I said I'm done; bathroom's free now." Waiting another few seconds, only silence greeted Alex, making his heart plunge. Ryland wouldn't have left him, would he? He was in his room the last Alex saw him, but now he wasn't answering. Could he have fallen asleep? He hadn't been sleeping well for the past few weeks, but Alex knew that Ryland was a light sleeper, so he would have woken up to Alex's knocking.

Worrying his lip between his teeth, Alex knocked again. Ryland's door was slightly ajar; not enough for Alex to see inside, but open enough to let Alex hear a nearly inaudible whimper. The sound only comforted Alex for a second before he was plunged headfirst into worry. Ryland didn't _whimper_ \-- at least, not in front of Alex.

"Ryland?" Alex heard another quiet squeak and, now that he was listening, noticed the faint sound of panicked breathing coming from the darkened room. "Rylie, what's wrong?" After a few seconds of tense silence, a hesitant mumble came from the room, and Alex frowned. Something was clearly wrong. Ryland wasn't in danger -- at least, as far as Alex could tell -- but he was clearly upset, to say the least. What had happened? One moment he was talking to Ryland from the bathroom, the other man likely relaxing in his room, and the next thing he knew Alex was listening on as his friend had what he could only assume to be a panic attack.

Alex took a deep breath, collecting his thoughts. Trying to remember everything he knew about calming someone in a situation like this, he knocked on the wall again, hoping to get Ryland's attention. Hearing a quick stutter in the sound of shallow breathing, Alex assumed Ryland had heard him, but he audibly cleared his throat once to make sure.

"Ryland, listen to me. I'm right out here." Ryland's vision was still swimming, his eyes unfocused and breathing shallow, but his spiraling mind quickly latched onto Alex's voice. Alex was there. Alex, who had stuck with him for so long. Alex, who believed in him. Alex, who had put in so much effort to connect with Ryland. Alex, who he was letting down, Alex who knew he was just a disappointment, Alex --

"Just focus on me, Ry." Alex's voice cut through his turbulent thoughts, grabbing his attention. "Listen to me. I'm right here. I'm right here with you."

Somehow, Alex's voice helped to thin the fog coating Ryland's mind. Focusing on his roommate's voice, Ryland tried to bring himself down from the panic attack. Breathing was hard -- he felt like he was suffocating -- but Ryland forced himself to take slow, deliberate breaths, listening to Alex's voice over the wild hammering of his pulse. The words the other man was saying were lost on his frazzled brain, but the soothing timbre of it shooed away the demons who haunted his psyche.

Slowly, gradually, Ryland's breathing evened out, the rest of the world around him fading into focus. The dim light of his bedroom was easy on his tired eyes as he slowly uncurled from around himself, stretching out his tense muscles. At some point during the process of grounding him Alex had stopped talking, instead quietly humming along to the tune Ryland had come to associate with the other man's comforting presence.

Ryland opened his mouth to speak but could only manage a strangled groan. Ryland cleared his throat, noticing as Alex's humming came to a stop. He barely heard a small sigh of relief from the other side of the door, Alex shuffling his feet awkwardly.

"…Hey, Ry?" Alex called, uncertainty obvious in his tone.

"Yeah?" Ryland croaked, glancing over and noticing that his door was still mostly shut. Alex hadn't opened it, hadn't looked in during the entire process. Ryland knew that, had his friend done so, his panic would have only gotten worse, but he hadn't expected Alex to be aware of that factor.

"Bathroom's free," Alex said after a few beats of silence, and Ryland heard footsteps receding from the doorway, heading toward the main room of the apartment. Hesitating, Ryland heard Alex plop down on one of the sofas overdramatically, quickly realizing that Alex had given him an out. He was giving Ryland space to head to the bathroom to clean himself up without Alex being able to see him. Pushing himself off of the bed, Ryland slowly gathered a change of clothing, before staggering towards the door.

Poking his head out, Ryland saw Alex's distinct hairstyle over the loveseat down the hall, facing directly away from the bedroom. Closing his door behind him, Ryland crossed the narrow hall to their shared bathroom. Once he was inside with the door shut, Ryland set down his clothing, turning to face himself in the mirror. He couldn't help but frown at his reflection, eyes immediately drawn to his greasy, tangled hair and his pale face practically dripping with exhaustion. Picking up a towel from the floor, Ryland carefully hung it over the glass, hiding the mirror -- and, as a result, his reflection -- from view.

As he peeled off his shirt, now stuck to his skin with drying blood, he noticed Alex had started talking again, his voice echoing from down the hall. At first, it was the typical aimless chatter he had come to expect, but it soon morphed into something much more personal.

"I used to be in a band." Ryland blinked, caught off guard by Alex's sudden declaration. He had known of Alex's love of music; how could he not, with the numerous instruments and vintage records littering the apartment? Just like Ryland, though, Alex was very secretive about his past, and Ryland never thought it fair to pry into his roommate's business, the blatant hypocrisy too convincing.

After waiting for an immediate explanation and receiving none, Ryland figured that Alex would continue when he was ready, and focused on gently cleaning his forearms with cold water.

"We never really… went anywhere," Alex said after a few minutes, as Ryland dried off the now soaking countertop. "I mean, obviously. We didn't exactly agree on… the direction we wanted the group to go. My bandmates wanted me to be… someone else, and I couldn't do that. They kicked me out a few years before we met." Ryland tugged on the fresh pair of sweatpants he had grabbed from his room, staying silent as he processed Alex's sudden confession.

After checking the sleeves on his clean sweater to make sure that they fully concealed his wrists, Ryland picked up his discarded outfit and quietly crept out of the bathroom. Alex was in the same place he had been when Ryland last saw him, not reacting even as Ryland haphazardly tossed his prior clothing through his bedroom door. Closing the door behind him once again, Ryland headed down the hallway, careful to keep his footfalls heavy so that Alex could hear his approach. As he entered the area, Alex turned, smiling brightly at him. Ryland could only manage a tired half-smile in return, but that appeared to be good enough for Alex, who turned back to his phone.

Ryland sat down at what Alex called “the esports table,” booting up Killcore on his computer. As he waited for a match to load, hoping to get some early morning practice in, he noticed Alex's gaze in his periphery, an unreadable expression on his face. He was soon wrapped up in the action of the match, though, his worries and feelings fading to the background as he focused on the game.

As the match ended, Alex plopped himself down in a nearby gaming chair before Ryland could start a new one. Alex had an excited grin on his face, and Ryland noticed a twinge of worry in his friend's eyes. Leaving the game on the title screen, Ryland turned to face Alex, silently signaling his attention.

"There's this really cool lookin' diner place that just opened real close by," Alex began, wringing his hands nervously beneath the table. "I was thinkin' maybe we could go check it out?"

Ryland's brow furrowed, not really wanting to be in public at the moment, but Alex seemed to notice his discomfort and quickly reassured him. "I looked on their website; they do takeout! Kinda strange for a diner, but it's pretty convenient! Plus, with all the stuff that's been happening with the team lately, I know I could use some comfort food, and nothin's more 'comfort food'-y than pancakes!"

Ryland couldn't help but snort at Alex's sudden excitement, remembering how Alex would often come home with IHOP after a particularly stressful day.

Ryland still felt drained from the events of this morning, but he could only imagine how vulnerable Alex felt, having laid part of his past bare for Ryland to see. Besides, he argued to himself, he hadn't eaten in over a day, and it wouldn't hurt to eat something substantial.

"Yeah," Ryland sighed, shutting off his computer, "that sounds alright." Alex immediately brightened, his nervous energy melting away into delight. As Ryland grabbed his keys and wallet from the desk, Alex chattered excitedly about various pancake-related anecdotes, filling the silence of the apartment with a familiar sense of warmth and companionship.

As the pair left the apartment, Alex didn't comment on Ryland's thick sweater in the summer heat and Ryland didn't mention Alex's baggier-than-usual clothing. They both had their secrets, but through everything, they'd have each other, and that knowledge is what kept Ryland going.

No matter what, they'd be there for each other.


	4. Figure It Out

“Why are we here, again?” Ryland grumbled, trailing behind the rest of the team as they climbed what felt like the 80th flight of stairs.

They had just won another tournament, putting them that much closer to Bloodmatch, and Alex had insisted they go somewhere to celebrate. Ash had offered to take the team to a new bar that opened near her apartment, and they all agreed that it was a good idea.

What Ash failed to mention, however, is that it was a _rooftop_ bar, on top of a building with _at least_ 20 stories. Upon finding this out Ryland was already ready to leave, but he couldn’t just abandon Alex and the rest of the team. So, here he was, climbing flight after flight of stairs, already dreading having to get a drunk Alex back down to the ground level.

“Aw, c’mon Ry! We won! It’s a celebration!” Alex cheered, wrapping an arm around Ryland’s shoulders as he caught up with the rest of the group. Smirking at the team, Ash pushed open the stairwell doors, revealing the open-air bar.

Ryland was almost impressed -- the place looked much less shady than he had expected it to. Fairy lights were strung up on poles connected to the railing bordering the roof, and scattered tables littered the space. A bar was located in the middle of the roof, with an impressive selection of drinks visible.

“So? Are we just gonna stand here all day?” Kamal teased, making his way onto the roof proper. Lorenzo quickly took off after him, saying something about the drinking age, and Sam soon followed. Ryland let Alex lead him to a table in the corner, doing his best to ignore the sinking feeling stirring in his chest.

Alex said something about getting the group some drinks and quickly hurried off as Ryland slid into one of the fold-out chairs. The others soon joined him at the table, sans Ash and Alex, who were up at the bar ordering drinks. Taking a breath, Ryland resisted the urge to scratch beneath his sleeves, settling for pulling harshly on his tied-back hair, keeping his gaze fixed on the table in front of him.

“Dude, we’re so high up! Check out the view,” Kamal said, pointing to Ryland’s right. Against his better judgment, Ryland turned his head, looking out over the city before them. He started to relax slightly, allowing his gaze to travel along the roads, weaving alongside cars.

He was fine, this was fine, everything’s fine.

He caught a glimpse of a bright car on the road in front of the building and his eyes darted over to it instinctually, bringing his line of sight directly below him.

_Everything wasn’t fine._

Ryland couldn’t bring himself to look away from the sheer drop before him, eyes laser-focused on every little detail of the terrain, yet still glazed over and distant. He felt his body inch closer to the edge, unable to stop himself. His hands were shaking, he noticed, and his breathing was nearly nonexistent.

Gripping the guard rail with both hands, Ryland squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ground himself. Don’t look at it, don’t look down, _don’t look;_ he repeated it to himself like a mantra.

When he opened his eyes, however, he still couldn’t tear his gaze away from the concrete waiting hundreds of feet below. His knuckles had turned white from how tightly he was clinging to the rail, he couldn’t let go, couldn’t move, could barely breathe.

_Don’t think about it. Don’t think about how easy it would be. Don’t think about how fast, how painless. Don’t think about the flimsiness of the rail keeping you back, don’t think about the certainty of it, don’t think about how little effort it would take. Don’t, don’t, **don’t, don’t --**_

“Ryland?”

His breath hitched, head whipping around to see the rest of his team watching him. They all wore expressions displaying varying degrees of concern, and Alex even looked scared. How long had he been distracted? Who said his name? Ryland’s heart was pounding, he could breathe again, he couldn’t breathe _enough,_ he could barely see at all, _what's going on?_

“Yeah?” he managed to croak out, his voice wavering slightly. He kept his hands glued to the railing, still all too aware of what lay right beyond it. “S… sorry,” he continued, he couldn’t let them see how fucked up he was, he had to act _normal,_ “I didn’t hear you.”

“Ash asked if you wanted to order any food,” Sam said, “but you were, like, in a completely different world.”

Ryland let his gaze dart between each of his teammates, his _friends,_ one by one. His gaze finally stopped on Alex, unsure of what his roommate was thinking. Ryland searched his best friend’s eyes, trying to find some indication of what he was thinking, to no avail. It took him a few seconds to realize that he’d been quiet for too long, and everyone was staring at him with even more worry than before.

“N-No, uh, I’m… I’m good,” Ryland said, his throat tight. Alex frowned at that, _why did he frown? Was he upset? Angry? Did he know something the others didn’t, know what was going on? He couldn’t possibly… could he?_

Unable to bear the unfamiliar expression on Alex’s face, Ryland averted his eyes, which turned out to be a mistake. He caught a glimpse of the edge of the rooftop in his periphery and his breath caught in his throat. Tearing his gaze away immediately, he locked his eyes on the table. Unfortunately for him, the others noticed his reaction.

“Dude, are you scared of heights?” Kamal asked, tone dripping with laughter. The others glanced over at Kamal, shock and worry fading into relief and amusement.

"Is that it?" Ash asked, a smile spreading across her face. "It's not like you're gonna fall, that's what the rails are for."

Kamal burst out laughing, Sam and Ash chuckling quietly as well. Even Lorenzo was smirking -- as much as _Lorenzo_ could smirk, that is. Ryland felt heat rise to his face, humiliation mixing with the terror he already felt, morphing into red hot anger.

"I'm not _fucking scared,_" Ryland snapped, turning fully away from the edge. He slammed his hands on the table, gritting his teeth angrily. The others only laughed more at his outburst, unfazed.

"You totally are! Ohh, this is too good," Kamal cackled, pointing at Ryland mockingly. "I can't believe you're such a _wuss!_"

Lorenzo rested a hand on Ryland's shoulder, making him flinch and jerk away. "It's fine to be scared of things, Ryland," Lorenzo said, his patronizing tone only fueling the fire that burned behind Ryland’s eyes. "Although I don't understand why you chose to sit closest to the edge if you're afraid of falling."

"He was probably trying to act tough," Sam commented, shrugging with a grin. "Guys are just like that." Ash nodded, agreeing with a cocky smirk.

Ryland shot to his feet, knocking his chair over in the process. The group quickly fell silent, although Kamal still had a shit-eating grin on his face. Ryland's glare shot from person to person, his skin practically on fire. Finally, he met Alex's gaze, only to be greeted with the same indecipherable expression.

"Fuck all of you," Ryland hissed, "you don't know _jack shit._ Not about me, not about _fucking anything._" With that, he shoved his way past the group, stomping over to the door to the stairwell and slamming it behind him. He stumbled down flight after flight of stairs, entirely unaware of his surroundings.

After a while Ryland ran out of steam, collapsing in a corner of the stairwell, his head throbbing. Hot tears threatened to spill down his face, blurring his vision and only serving to fuel his rage. Without realizing, his hand crept under his sleeve, nails clawing at the healing injuries hidden beneath the fabric.

A few minutes later Ryland realized what he was doing, ripping his hand away only to find blood buried beneath his fingernails. Even when he felt alright, when he thought he was doing better, he was still the same pathetic person as he has always been.

Laughter echoed in his skull, the familiar chuckles of his teammates mixing with the mocking laughter that had haunted him for years. He could almost see the video, hear the screams of his younger self. He really hadn't changed at all, had he? That video just showed the world what a pathetic, miserable person he truly was. They were right. All the nasty comments, all the bullies from grade school, even Steamin'. Ryland deserved every horrible thing that happened to him. He deserved to jump off of the damn building. The world could manage without him; who needs a college dropout who can barely hold a minimum wage job? Certainly not Alex. Alex, who had handled himself for years. Alex, who was better off than Ryland, despite all that he'd endured. Alex had the team now, Ryland didn't matter anymore. Ryland had never mattered. He had just been deluding himself, as usual. He's just as worthless as he always knew he was.

"Rylie?"

Ryland's head snapped up, face streaked with drying tears. It took a moment for his eyes to refocus, the blurry figure standing in front of him solidifying into a lanky person wearing bright, tacky clothing. Slowly, his gaze drifted upwards and, as soon as he caught sight of wild, untameable hair framing familiar, warm brown eyes, his heart leapt straight into his throat. 

"Alex…" Ryland whimpered, the broken sound of his voice making him chuckle bitterly. God, he really is a disappointment, huh? Making Alex come after him, ruining what was supposed to be a celebration with his bullshit. Ryland's just a burden on everyone, and Alex is just too kind to tell him so.

Alex didn't say anything, simply sitting down next to Ryland, their legs brushing against each other. Ryland stared at the ground in front of him, willing himself to _knock it off already, don't make a scene,_ but he could already feel fresh tears welling up in his eyes and he let out an involuntary sound, a strangled noise which fell somewhere between a scoff and a sob. Alex stayed silent as Ryland's walls came crashing down, quiet sobs overtaking him.

After a few minutes Ryland managed to compose himself, the only sound in the empty stairwell coming from the occasional strangled gasp. He stayed as silent as he could, not daring to breach the tense silence permeating the air.

"Fears are weird, dude," Alex began after a moment, gaze locked straight ahead. "Like, y'never really know what's gonna turn into one of 'em." Ryland let out a shaky breath, not able to form words yet but still wanting to indicate that he was listening. "One day you decide to dress a little different than usual and before you know it all of your friends have deserted you, your dad won't answer your calls, and you're living on the streets with an expensive alcohol addiction and a debilitating fear of abandonment." Alex said all this with a chuckle, but Ryland knew his friend well enough to pick up on the anxiety lacing his words. Alex still didn't look at him, gaze distant and unfocused.

Ryland let out a shaky breath, knowing that he had to be the next one to speak up, but not sure how to start. Alex had shared one of his deeper, better-kept secrets with Ryland; something he'd never opened up about before. To show how much he trusted him. To show him that it's okay to trust. Ryland had to trust Alex in return. He owed it to him.

"I… I'm not afraid. Of falling, I mean," he began, running his hand up and down the fabric of his sleeve, the familiar sting helping to keep him grounded. Dried blood caked beneath his fingernails and he could feel blood gluing his sleeve to his arm. "Maybe I'm a little scared of… heights. But not of falling." Ryland glanced at Alex out of the corner of his eye and was greeted with an open, nonjudgmental expression. He couldn't tell if that was a good or bad sign, but it compelled him to keep going.

"What scares me is how… how easy it is. It'd only take one step, y'know? I'm not scared of falling off, I…" Ryland swallowed heavily, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm scared that I'll jump."

Ryland kept his eyes screwed shut, his body tense. He'd never admitted that to anyone before; he hadn't even formally admitted it to himself. And now it was out there, laid bare for the most important person in his life to see. Ryland knew Alex would never hurt him -- he was far too kind to ever do that -- but that didn't stop his anxiety from whispering about all the horrible things Alex probably thought of him now.

After a minute of tense silence, Ryland risked a peek at his companion, hesitantly glancing towards him. Alex was again staring ahead at nothing, his face blank, but upon seeing Ryland's movement he turned towards him and smiled softly. Ryland searched his friend's face, looking for any sign of insincerity or disgust, but finding none. All he could see was understanding, acceptance, and affection.

Ryland's eyes began to water again and he hurriedly blinked away the tears, a whirlpool of emotions warring inside of him for dominance. Ultimately, relief won out, surging through Ryland and urging him forward as he leaned his entire body against Alex's. Once again, Alex didn't say a word, simply wrapping his arms around Ryland and gently rubbing his back. And, for once, Ryland didn't force himself to pull away.

Eventually, they separated, and Ryland found himself immediately missing the embrace. Rubbing his face with both hands, Ryland took an exaggerated breath, steadying himself. Looking to Alex, he saw that the tall man had gotten to his feet and was extending a hand in an offer to help Ryland up. Gratefully, Ryland accepted, wobbling unsteadily to his feet.

“You wanna bail?” Alex asked, tilting his head in curiosity. Ryland couldn’t help but smile at that, his heart swelling with affection. Alex was so sweet, so caring… Ryland didn’t deserve him. It took a moment for the contents of the question to hit him, and Ryland grimaced, remembering what had happened with the team. Alex noticed, squeezing Ryland’s hand which was still in his own. “We can go home and watch a movie or something.”

“Nah, that’ll just make the others be more weird about it,” Ryland sighed. He knew he had to go back up there and face everyone, but the thought of walking back up the stairs made his stomach turn. _What would they think? What if they left the team? Why would anyone want to be on a team with someone so **pathetic**_ \--

Alex squeezed Ryland’s hand again, gently pulling him out of his spiraling thoughts. Refocusing his vision, Ryland’s eyes landed on Alex’s face, and suddenly his worries didn’t seem quite as intimidating. The whispers in the back of his head were still there, still feeding him doubts and insecurities, but Alex, with his welcoming smile and caring eyes, made them quieter, less frightening.

Hand in hand, the two made their way back up the stairs, pausing for a moment outside the doorway. Ryland felt Alex’s gaze turn to him, felt a reassuring pressure on his hand, felt the unspoken question in the air, and inhaled shakily. Closing his eyes briefly, Ryland squeezed back, nodding. They pushed the doors open together, exposing themselves to the light of the roof.

Taking the first step in stride with Alex, Ryland tried to focus on what was around him. He could smell the faint scent of alcohol mixed with cigarette smoke, felt the concrete under his feet, felt the sting of the cuts on his arm, saw the others notice him, saw the shock and pity on their faces, saw the edge of the rooftop, saw the sheer drop --

Ryland closed his eyes again. He felt Alex’s hand in his, heard his own heart pounding in his ears, heard Alex’s steady breathing beside him. He felt the cool air on his face, and he felt a thumb softly running over the back of his hand. The roof’s edge was still there, would always be there. But Alex’s hand was in his, holding him tight, keeping him safe. Secure. Grounded.

Ryland’s eyes opened and Alex was still there, right beside him.


	5. And You'll Realize

“Oh my _god_ I am going to _jump out the goddamn window._”

Sam snickered at Kamal’s complaining, the sweltering apartment filled only with the sound of whirring computer fans and rapid keyboard tapping. Today’s Esports People practice had been absolutely miserable for everyone involved, due entirely to the AC in Ryland’s apartment breaking about 10 minutes in. Lorenzo said he’d get someone to fix it, but until then nobody wanted to lose the day of practice with Bloodmatch quickly approaching, so they opted to hold the practice regardless.

Alex went out and got as many water bottles and ice packs as he could carry. The computer fans were working overtime and they all sounded like they were going to give out any second. The people in the apartment weren’t doing much better, with everyone wearing the least amount of clothing possible and fashioning anything and everything in the area into some type of cooling device. They weren’t playing anywhere close to their best but nobody could be bothered to try any harder, nor point out anyone else’s apathy.

Alex was currently laying face up on the floor, a cool, damp towel draped over his forehead. An alarm on his phone buzzed, causing him to groan, sitting up and setting the wet cloth to the side.

“Anyone need a fresh ice pack?” he mumbled, receiving a chorus of groans in response. Staggering to his feet, he trudged over to the kitchenette, burying his head in the freezer for a few moments before pulling out the partially frozen pieces of plastic. Slowly making his way around the computer setup, he distributed one to each of the players, collecting the melted ones they already had.

“Here Ry,” he said, setting the two remaining ice packs on the table beside Ryland. Ryland had been completely zoned out, staring at nothing while his character stood idly, having respawned a full minute prior. Looking over at Alex, he smiled up at him gratefully, albeit a little strained. Ryland had changed into a thinner sweater than his usual attire, trying to avoid overheating, but it was still significantly hotter than if he was wearing temperature appropriate clothing and he wasn’t handling the heat very well.

“Hey, how come he gets two?!” Across the table, Kamal had shot to his feet, disregarding the ongoing Killcore match. He glared at Alex and Ryland, pointing an accusatory finger at them.

"Well, since I'm not playing, I figured he could have mine," Alex explained, slightly frazzled by Kamal's outburst but quickly recovering. "Ryland doesn't do well with the heat; well, I mean, I don't either but I've got my water bottle and the wet towel, and I can just step outside if I start overheating but he's gotta stay at the computer --"

“He was basically dead to the world for a minute there," Ash interjected, Alex shooting her a grateful glance. "I think he might need them.”

“Well duh, he’s still wearing a long sleeve sweater,” Sam grumbled, pushing her chair away from the computer as her character died. “Why doesn’t he just take it off?”

“Um, aren’t we still in -- in a match?” Lorenzo called, frantically tapping at his keyboard.

“We’ve basically already lost, old man,” Kamal called over his shoulder, making his way over to Ryland and Alex. All attention was now focused on them and, from the moment Sam had mentioned his sweater, Ryland’s expression had gone completely blank. “Just take off the fuckin sweater, dumbass! It’s your shitty apartment, just go get a T-shirt!” Alex glanced worriedly at Ryland, who was staring emptily at his monitor which now only displayed the Killcore title screen.

“Lay off, Kamal,” Ash said, setting her headphones down and standing up. “It doesn’t matter."

“No, Kamal’s right!” Now Sam had moved closer to the gathering, and Lorenzo stood to make his way over as well, although he was reluctant to abandon the ongoing match. “Ryland's gonna get heatstroke. Besides, I’ve always wondered why he never wears short sleeves.”

“Alright, guys, we should probably get back to practice,” Alex interjected, moving to stand between Ryland and Kamal.

Ryland didn’t hear anything else, only registering indecipherable noises as the arguing escalated. Everything sounded like it was underwater and he couldn’t bring himself to focus on his surroundings. He'd known this was coming, he’d been expecting it, and he knew from the second he'd found the broken AC that today wasn't going to go well. Even still, nothing could have prepared him for the question itself, made worse by what was surely rapidly worsening heat exhaustion, clouding his mind even further.

Luckily, even though he was the subject of the confrontation, the attention in the room wasn’t on Ryland at the moment, giving him time to try to ground himself. Unconsciously, he let his hand drift under his shirt sleeve, gently tracing the raised lines running up and down his forearm. It had been about a week since he carved out any fresh ones, and he had been feeling better about himself for it.

Now, though, the healing scabs only served as a reminder of his past actions, of his miserable excuses and avoidances, of how worthless he truly is. What kind of freak cuts into their skin, and for what? Because of some embarrassing video online? Because he dropped out of college, despite everything his parents did to get him in? Because he can't keep a steady job? Because of the stupid shit he does on a daily basis? Because he's just _oh so troubled,_ sitting around playing video games all day instead of doing something productive? It’s pathetic. _He’s_ pathetic. He should just --

“Oh my -- Ryland, what are you doing?!”

Ryland jumped, eyes darting in the direction the shout had come from. Lorenzo was pointing directly at him, his other hand over his mouth in shock.

“Huh…?” Ryland gasped, squeezing his arm tighter, nails digging into the skin. Lorenzo flinched when he did so, and Ryland realized a moment too late that his careful tracing had turned into harsh scratches without his noticing.

Ryland’s lighter sweater, although it likely did prevent him from falling unconscious, had the unintended side effect of making the blood beneath his sleeve stand out even more dramatically. The thin, light grey fabric now had an incriminating red stain slowly spreading across his sleeve.

“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, noticing what Lorenzo was pointing at. The room fell silent as everyone turned towards him, and Ryland swore that his heart stopped.

“Ryland, what the hell?!" People were talking again -- who said that? Ryland didn’t know, the sounds were blending together. He couldn’t breathe, everything was too loud, too bright, too _much._

“I… I…” He couldn’t speak, couldn’t force out anything that wasn’t a pathetic croak. When did it get so cold in here? Wasn't it supposed to be hot? Ryland felt like his head was going to explode, like he was going to pass out, why? Where is he, again? He doesn't know. All he knows is that it’s all too much, he can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t hear, can’t think, can’t _be_ \--

“Alright, practice is over. Everybody out,” Alex said, his voice low and deadly serious.

“But his _arm_-!!”

“Out.” Seeing the look in Alex’s eyes, the group quickly gathered their things and hurried out the door, Ash helping Alex usher the others along.

Once the door was closed and locked behind them, Alex made his way around the table, turning off all the computers to hopefully lower the apartment’s temperature. He gently guided Ryland’s hand away from his arm, giving him an ice pack to hold onto instead. Ryland just stayed where he was, shivering, his breathing shallow and eyes distant.

The room was silent as Alex went around, turning off lights and closing curtains. He made his way to the bathroom, pulling out the emergency medical kit they kept in the cupboard. Tucking it under his arm, he also pulled out another washcloth, soaking it in cold water before returning to Ryland.

Gently guiding him out of his seat, Alex sat Ryland down on the sofa, pressing the washcloth to his forehead. Alex sat beside him, careful not to accidentally bump Ryland as he waited.

Once Ryland had stopped shivering, Alex coaxed the ice pack out of his hands, setting it on the coffee table. Taking Ryland’s still trembling hands in his own, he held them tightly, squeezing in a steady rhythm. Alex took deep, deliberate breaths, hoping to coax Ryland into doing the same.

After a while, Ryland’s eyes began to refocus and his breathing slowly started to even out. He cautiously took in his surroundings, and Alex waited quietly as his friend got his bearings. 

"Alex," Ryland mumbled, exhaling shakily as his gaze settled on the man beside him. Alex smiled softly, gently running his thumbs over the back of Ryland's hands.

"Hey Rylie." Alex's voice was barely above a whisper, running through Ryland's tired mind like warm honey. "Still too overwhelming, or are you okay to clean up?" Ryland nodded in affirmation, clinging to Alex like a lifeline. His head was still swimming, but the darkness and quiet of the apartment made it easier for him to remain present.

Releasing one of Ryland's hands, Alex reached for the medical kit, setting it open on the coffee table. Turning back to Ryland, his expression became more sympathetic, and he rested his free hand on top of Ryland's.

"Is it okay if I roll up your sleeves?" Alex asked, maintaining his gentle tone. Ryland hesitated, eyes darting down to his bloodstained sleeve. Gripping Alex's hand tighter, he nodded jerkily. Alex hummed, letting Ryland know he understood. He slowly pushed Ryland's left sleeve up, keeping a loose grip on his hand, tight enough to reassure him but loose enough that Ryland could easily pull away.

Ryland's eyes remained tightly shut as he felt the shirt peel away from his skin. As Alex gently wiped away the drying blood with the damp washcloth, Ryland risked a glance at his friend's face, terrified of what he'd see. Alex wore a thoughtful expression, appearing calm as he carefully cleaned off Ryland’s arm. Ryland briefly glimpsed a hint of sadness in his friend's eyes, but just as soon as he saw it Alex noticed Ryland’s gaze and it was gone, replaced with only warmth and understanding.

The apartment was silent as Alex cleaned both of Ryland’s arms, both men unsure what to say. Eventually, Alex spoke up, holding up a bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Is it okay if I use this?” At Ryland’s grimace, he smiled sadly. “I don’t have to, but I don’t want it getting infected.” Seeing his concerned expression, Ryland sighed, any resistance quickly leaving.

“Alright…” Nodding, Alex poured rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball, holding his free hand out, which Ryland took gratefully. “Ready?”

Ryland nodded, hissing slightly when Alex made contact but otherwise not moving away. It was quiet for a while, Ryland keeping his eyes shut and focusing on the feeling of Alex’s hand in his.

Soon, Ryland heard a faint melodic sound, so quiet that he thought he was hearing things at first. After a while, though, it became more noticeable, and Ryland recognized it as the familiar song he would hear echoing through the apartment late at night. Opening his eyes, he saw that Alex had a relaxed expression on his face, humming quietly as he set the rubbing alcohol aside and began gently bandaging Ryland’s arms. Ryland was captivated, the tune sweet, calming and strangely familiar, although he couldn’t quite place it.

The familiarity of the scene wasn't lost on him, but this time Alex was here, holding him, supporting him, helping him. The day’s events quickly caught up with his sluggish mind, and Ryland's eyelids grew heavier.

As Alex finished wrapping Ryland’s cuts, he glanced up to see Ryland’s eyes closed, head listing to the side. Smiling to himself, Alex put the excess bandages back in the kit, closing it and setting it to the side.

"C'mon buddy," Alex said, nudging his roommate. Ryland whined slightly, falling forward to lean on Alex's chest. Alex chuckled, wrapping his arms around his half-asleep friend. "Alright, fine, you win. You can sleep here."

As Ryland drifted in and out of consciousness, Alex began to hum the melody Ryland was now intimately familiar with. His quiet voice wrapped the whole apartment in a feeling of serenity and security. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryland knew that they'd have to talk about what had happened, that he couldn't keep running away from this, but for some reason, it didn't seem as frightening as it once had.

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Ryland felt like he could handle it.


	6. It's Okay

The first thing Ryland noticed upon waking up was that he wasn't in his bed.

His first thought was that he'd carelessly fallen asleep while watching TV with Alex, but the bandages carefully wrapping his forearms quickly brought back memories of what had happened. Glancing around, Ryland noticed faint morning sunlight peeking out from behind the closed curtains on the other side of the room.

Pulling himself into a sitting position, Ryland delicately ran his hand over the careful bandaging, his arms not nearly as sore as they tended to be after an episode like yesterday's. A flash of blue caught his eye from the coffee table, a brightly colored scrap of paper lying next to a glass of water.

_Hey Rylie!_   
_If you're reading this that means that you woke up before I got back. Don't worry! I just went to go pick up some breakfast! I'll be back right away!!_   
_Feel free to go change or whatever while I'm out. Oh, and the water's for you!! The AC is back on, but it still might be hot when you get up!_

_With love,_  
☆_Alex_☆

Ryland smiled softly as he read the note, practically able to hear his roommate's voice through the words. Still somewhat groggy, he took small sips of water while he fully woke up. Ryland couldn't remember the last time he'd slept so long, usually getting no more than 3 hours of sleep at a time.

Once he felt awake enough to stand up, Ryland made his way to his bedroom, cautiously pushing the door open. Purposefully averting his gaze from the side of the room that held his bedside table, Ryland quickly grabbed a baggy sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants from his dresser, hurrying to exit the dingy room. He didn't want to risk anything, not today.

As Ryland changed in the shared bathroom he allowed his thoughts to drift away. He knew that when Alex returned, they'd have to talk about everything. There was no avoiding it this time, and Ryland wasn't even sure that he wanted to. He was tired, so tired of the secrecy. It was time for him to come clean -- at least to Alex.

Ryland found himself lost in thought, staring into space until he heard the apartment door open. Hurriedly pulling on the remainder of his clothes, Ryland quickly splashed his face with water before rushing out into the main room.

Alex was precariously balancing a bag of takeout on his knee as he locked the door behind himself, grinning when he saw Ryland enter. Ryland smiled hesitantly in return, going to help his friend with the food.

"Pancakes," Alex simply said as Ryland set the takeout containers on their small kitchen table. Ryland couldn't help but chuckle, having expected nothing less from the other man.

The two sat down across from each other, digging into their meals eagerly. Ryland hadn't realized how hungry he had been, although in retrospect he should have expected to be, considering all the stress he just dealt with.

They ate in silence, the only sounds coming from their plastic utensils rubbing against styrofoam containers. Once they had both finished, the silence quickly became much tenser as both men struggled with how to go about the approaching discussion.

"So," Ryland said, voice cracking slightly. He immediately faltered, mouth hanging open uncertainly.

"I can go first if that'd be easier."

Ryland shook his head, making eye contact with Alex. "No… no, I…"

Alex nodded, a patient and understanding expression on his face.

Ryland took a deep breath, closing his eyes. "I've been depressed for… years. Ever since I graduated high school, really. The, uh, this," Ryland raised his arm, "is more recent."

There was a pause as Ryland stared down at the table, processing. "Technically it started… like 3 years ago? But I'd been… careless before that. I dropped out of college because of the video. After it got out I abandoned DotA 'nd my parents paid for my first year, moved me out here. I was gonna study game design." Running a hand through his hair, Ryland chuckled dryly. "Shit follows you, though. I couldn't go anywhere without someone knowing about it. So I just… stayed here. Dropped out pretty soon after, and that's when it started.”

Clearing his throat, Ryland kept his eyes trained downwards as he continued."Nothin's really changed since then. I mean, it got worse, but not different. I got less… careful over time, I guess. Stopped caring.” Ryland’s voice was monotone throughout his explanation, and his face was blank as he stared down at his hands. “I wasn’t… actively trying to do anything. Well, at first. Actually,” he chuckled dryly, “the night we met I… I was planning to…” Ryland swallowed, cutting himself off.

“That’s why I was at the bar. It’s hard to… make yourself go too far. F’r me, at least. I was hopin’ getting drunk would make it easier. But, uh… you showed up. ‘nd I… I dunno why but… I couldn’t leave you, I guess? I mean, sometimes I’d get like… close I guess, but more times than not… I dunno.” Rubbing his face, Ryland sighed. “You, uh… you kept me from… makin’ a mistake or something, dude. I’m… I’m trying.”

Ryland sighed again, keeping his eyes downcast. After a few moments of silence, Alex reached over and took Ryland’s hand in his own. Ryland’s eyes darted up to Alex’s face, fear clogging his throat. Alex had a soft, loving smile on his face, and he squeezed Ryland’s hand gently.

“Ry… you stopped yourself, man. I had nothin’ to do with it.” Ryland scoffed, rolling his eyes, and Alex grinned at him in response. "I'm serious! You're fuckin… strong as hell, dude!" Ryland couldn't help but smile back at him, the other man's exuberance contagious. "But like, seriously. Give yourself some credit," Alex continued, eyes softening. "You're fucking amazing. And, so help me, I'm never gonna let you forget it."

Ryland didn't know what to say, just nodding awkwardly, eyes filling with unshed tears. Alex knew. Alex knew and _he loved him anyway._ In an instant he stood up, hugging Alex like his life depended on it.

Ryland finally felt like he understood what people meant when they said a weight had been lifted. It's not like all of his problems and worries would suddenly disappear; that isn't how life works. The same hard road would be waiting for him the moment he lets go, just as it always had been. But now, Alex knew. Now, Alex would be there to help him, every step of the way.

"Sorry, dude," Alex said, pulling back from the embrace but keeping his hands on Ryland's shoulders, "looks like you're stuck with me." Ryland chuckled, not feeling like he had to pull away from the contact anymore. He let himself enjoy the affection, the part of him insisting that he didn't deserve it easily smothered by Alex's warmth and acceptance.

Feeling restless, Ryland suggested that they clean the kitchenette area. The two men made quick work of the small amount of garbage, not bothering with the residual mess scattered across the apartment. Once they finished, Alex turned to Ryland, a nervous grin on his face.

"Alright, now it’s my turn.”

Ryland blinked, not understanding what Alex meant at first. Seeing Alex’s anxious fidgeting, though, he quickly realized what he was saying.

“You don’t have to, y’know.”

“And let you have all the deep backstory divulging fun? No way, dude.” Despite his joking tone, Alex was incredibly worried, and Ryland wasn’t sure what to do. Hesitating, Ryland awkwardly grabbed Alex’s hand, smiling at him in a way he hoped was comforting. Alex giggled, smiling brightly in return. “Alright, here we go,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“You’ve, uh, probably figured some of this out already, but, uh… I’m trans.” Ryland blinked a few times, registering what Alex said.

“Like, transgender?”

“Yeah,” Alex said, his smile having faded into something more fearful. “That’s, uh… that’s why my parents disowned me, and why my band kicked me out. They, uh, they wanted a female lead and I’m… not that.” Alex was fiddling with the hem of his shirt, eyes downcast. He was trying to appear confident, but Ryland could see how afraid he was.

“I… look, dude, you know I’m not really a ‘words’ person,” Ryland said, squeezing Alex’s hand the same way the other man often did for him, “but like… those guys suck.” Alex looked up at Ryland, hope flooding his eyes. “Like… fuck, man. You’re Alex, right?” Alex nodded. “And you’re a guy, right?” Alex nodded again, a smile slowly creeping onto his face. “Then, like… whatever, I guess?” Ryland shrugged, entirely unsure of what he was saying. "You get what I mean, dude.” Not giving him a chance to stumble over his words any further, Alex surged forward and hugged him tightly.

“Thanks, dude,” Alex mumbled into Ryland’s shoulder, “even though you _suck_ at being encouraging.” Ryland chuckled, playfully shoving Alex away. Alex burst into laughter, leaning on Ryland in mirth. Ryland couldn’t help but laugh along with him, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years.

"Thanks, asshole," Ryland chuckled, barely able to contain his laughter. The situation wasn't particularly amusing, but the sheer relief bathing the two men had made the pair unusually giddy. Clearing his throat, Ryland tried to steady himself, making Alex frown playfully at him.

"Aww, c'mon, don't stop," Alex pouted, poking at Ryland's chest. "I've never heard you laugh before!"

"I've laughed around you," Ryland argued, batting away Alex's hands with a hesitant smile.

"Well, yeah, but not like this! You sound so happy!" A mischievous grin spread across Alex's face, and he started inching towards Ryland. "In fact, I wanna hear it again!"

"What -- what are you-?" Ryland was cut off with a yelp as Alex poked him again, this time in his stomach.

"I had a feeling you’d be ticklish!" Alex crooned, continuing to poke at Ryland.

"Alex -- Alex _stOP,_" Ryland yelped, backing away from Alex while trying to fend off his hands. Alex continued to advance, his smirk growing wider with every yelp.

Eventually, Ryland felt the back of his legs hit the sofa, and he barely had time to protest as Alex leapt forward, pushing him back on the couch. Crawling on top of him, Alex gently squeezed Ryland's sides, both men freezing as Ryland let out an embarrassing squeal. They stared at each other, stunned, and Ryland's face slowly flushed a bright shade of pink.

"Holy shit…"

"Shut the fuck up."

"What was _that?_"

"Nothing!"

"Nothing?"

"Yes! Get off me, asshole!"

Alex smirked down at Ryland as the other man tried to push Alex off of him, his blush growing darker by the minute. Catching Alex's gaze, Ryland froze at the sinister gleam in his roommate's eyes, glaring at him. "Don't you fucking dAHARE-!!"

Ryland broke out into giggles as Alex started tickling him in earnest, laughing along with his friend. Ryland squirmed the best he could, chasing Alex's hands with his own. "Alex, Alehex sTOHOP!!"

Alex snickered, poking Ryland’s stomach a few more times before stopping, watching as Ryland laid back and tried to contain the residual laughter bubbling up in his chest. "Dude, that's _hilarious,_" Alex chuckled, scooting back so Ryland could sit up.

Ryland glared at him, pushing Alex back with faux-anger and bringing his knees up to his chest. "Fuck off."

Alex chuckled again, leaning against Ryland and resting his head on his shoulder. Ryland sighed, a small smile creeping onto his face. If he was being honest, he didn't mind what Alex had done as much as he pretended to. Sure, it was embarrassing, but it was still affection, something Ryland had denied himself for too long.

The two settled into a comfortable silence but, instead of getting lost in his thoughts, Ryland was able to keep himself present and enjoy the moment. The apartment was still slightly warm, and he could hear the low rumble of the air conditioning in the background. Alex was leaning against him, providing a comforting pressure that helped calm his mind.

A few minutes later, Ryland heard Alex humming a tune that he had become very familiar with over the past few months. Blinking, he glanced over at Alex, who was aimlessly scrolling through his phone while humming unconsciously.

"What is that?"

"Huh?" Alex lifted his head, looking up at Ryland.

"That song you're humming. I've heard you do that a lot."

Alex blinked, hesitating a moment before grinning sheepishly.

"Oh, that. It's just a song that a relative of mine used to sing." He seemed slightly embarrassed, sitting up and fiddling with his hands anxiously. "It's always been real calming 'n stuff."

Ryland guessed that Alex had always calmed himself with it, so he defaulted to calming other people with it. He seemed to be embarrassed about it, but Ryland found it endearing.

"How's it go?"

Alex seemed caught off guard by that, so Ryland quickly backtracked. "I mean, if you're cool with singin' it. You don't have to --"

"No," Alex blurted out, "no it's fine." He still seemed nervous but in a more excited way. Inhaling deeply, Alex closed his eyes and began to hum again, this time a different portion of the song than before.

Ryland watched Alex patiently, listening as the faint melody built up to the tune he recognized. Alex's head ever so slightly bopped to an unseen rhythm, his hair bouncing along airily.

When Alex opened his mouth and began to sing, however, Ryland's jaw practically dropped.

_"Hey, it's okay if you're not okay right now._

_You have plenty of time to figure it out"_

Alex's singing was soft and smooth, a far cry from his singing during drunken karaoke. He was clearly unused to singing for an audience, as his voice warbled during the first few lines, but it soon evened out as he lost himself in the music. Ryland was mesmerized by the performance, his gaze locked on Alex even as his friend opened his eyes and looked at Ryland, eyes brimming with so many feelings that Ryland struggled to identify even one.

_"And, before you know it, you won't even remember the last time._

_Someday you'll be glad you didn't listen to your demons that one night"_

As he continued to sing Alex locked eyes with Ryland, reaching a hand out and gently rubbing Ryland's forearm. His slightly sad expression was replaced with a smile, pure affection overtaking his features.

_"And I already can't wait to see how you'll grow._

_There'll be skies as clear as your eyes and grass as soft as your nose._

_And I'll tell you all of the things I love about you,_

_And I'll tell you about all the times that I've smiled because of you,_

_And you'll realize…"_

Alex returned to his position leaning against Ryland, his head resting on Ryland's shoulder. Ryland carefully wrapped an arm around him, overcome with emotion. Alex snuggled in closer, finishing off the song with a gentle, contented voice, and the words he sang shot straight to Ryland's heart.

_"It's okay if you're not okay right now"_

Ryland isn't okay right now. And it might be a while until he is.

And that's okay.


	7. Right Now

Bloodmatch was over. Esports People beat Lucid Nightmare. Sure, they wound up placing second in the end, but it was over. They did it.

Ryland sat in the back of the team van, absently listening to the playful banter being tossed around. This entire ordeal had been utterly exhausting, and he was still processing everything that occurred.

Alex sat beside Ryland, their hands subtly intertwined. Alex was chattering with their teammates excitedly, his leg bouncing in place with leftover adrenaline. The others were just as spirited, the hum of exhilaration practically tangible in the air.

Sighing, Ryland stared at the dark wall of the van, wishing there was a window he could occupy himself with. He had always loved watching the world pass by him on car trips and longed for something to help his mind wander.

Ryland felt Alex squeeze his hand subtly, still involved in whatever conversation the team was having. Alex looked over at him out of the corner of his eye, smiling reassuringly. Ryland smiled in return, squeezing back. He took a careful breath, focusing his attention back on the ongoing discussion, thankful for Alex's grounding presence.

The van slowed to a stop, Lorenzo announcing that they had arrived at "an appropriate place to celebrate their victory." The team piled out of the van one by one, although Alex hung back, Ryland staying with him.

"You guys coming?" Ash asked, lingering in the doorway as the others ran ahead.

"Yeah, we'll be there in a sec," Alex called, waving her off with a smile. Ash nodded, closing the sliding door behind her.

Ryland turned to Alex, giving him a questioning glance. Alex stared straight ahead, a faint smile on his face, before meeting Ryland's gaze with a grin.

"We did it, Rylie." The excitement in his expression was contagious, a tired smile spreading across Ryland’s face. "We did it!" 

"Yeah," Ryland chuckled. "We sure did, Lex." Alex was radiating pure elation as he lunged forward, enveloping Ryland in a celebratory hug. Ryland returned the embrace without hesitation, chuckling again as Alex nuzzled into his chest.

Once they finally separated, Alex kept his arms loosely wrapped around Ryland, his energetic smile morphing into a gentler, fonder expression.

“You were awesome,” he said, looking Ryland dead in the eye with a sincere expression. Ryland glanced away, feeling a slight twinge of guilt in his gut. Alex noticed his hesitation, frowning and gently taking Ryland’s face in his hands. Ryland had begun to grow more accustomed to Alex’s tactile nature but was still startled by the bold move, his eyes widening and darting back over to Alex’s face.

“Ryland, I’m serious, man! You did fucking great.” Ryland’s fingers twitched slightly, his hand itching to claw the familiar path up his forearm, but he stopped himself by gripping his pants leg tighter. Alex took one hand off his face, grabbing Ryland’s hand and squeezing it.

“Three weeks clean, right?” Alex asked, and Ryland nodded hesitantly. “That’s, like, incredible dude! And you won the Lucid Nightmare match for us!” Cupping Ryland’s cheek, Alex smiled softly, raising their joined hands between them. “None of this could have happened without you, Ry.”

Ryland couldn’t help but smile slowly, bringing his free hand up to Alex’s, lifting it off of his face and gently holding it. Alex’s smile widened into a grin, his eyes brightening at the small display of affection.

“That’s… you too, Alex. You kept us together.” Ryland paused, glancing away uncertainly. “You…” Taking a deep breath, he looked Alex in the eyes, continuing before he could second-guess himself again. “You kept _me_ together.”

Alex seemed stunned for a moment, blinking owlishly. Then, as he processed what Ryland said, the corners of his eyes scrunched up with a grin and a slight blush spread across his face.

“Aww, Rylie…” he said, leaning forward to rest his head on Ryland’s shoulder. “You did this on your own. I didn't do anything special.”

Ryland shook his head, pulling back so he could look Alex in the eye.

“I’m not joking. You’ve done… _so much_ for the team. And for me.” Alex was completely caught off guard, staring at Ryland with wide eyes. “Don’t downplay yourself, Lexi. You’re fucking great.”

Alex’s eyes began to water ever so slightly, still staring dumbfounded at Ryland. Suddenly, he lunged forward again, burying his face in Ryland’s shoulder and clinging to him tightly. Ryland carefully wrapped his arms around him, not commenting on how Alex’s shoulders shook ever so slightly.

They remained entangled for a few minutes, comforting one another. Eventually, Alex shifted, and Ryland could almost feel the teasing smirk blooming on the other’s face.

“So… Lexi?”

Ryland promptly shoved Alex away, blushing brightly. Alex just giggled, a knowing smirk accompanying his teasing tone of voice.

“Shut up,” Ryland muttered, crossing his arms and pointedly looking away. Alex’s giggling continued as he scooted closer to Ryland, leaning on him.

“Don’t worry _Rylie_, that’s really sweet!” Ryland continued to pout, his blush growing impossibly darker.

Alex stood, turning and offering a hand to help Ryland up, which Ryland took begrudgingly, still incredibly flustered. Alex smiled at him, opening the door of the van with his free hand.

As they stepped out, still hand in hand, Alex turned to Ryland, bumping shoulders with him gently.

“I love it. The nickname, I mean.” Leaning forward, Alex gently kissed Ryland on the cheek, catching him off guard. “It’s perfect.” Alex squeezed Ryland’s hand, smiling at him and taking a step forward towards the building.

“C’mon, let’s go celebrate!” Ryland smiled, a light pink dusting his face, and nodded, following Alex inside to where their friends were waiting. If anyone noticed Ryland’s faint blush they didn’t comment on it, although Ash did give him a small knowing smile as the two approached.

Ryland sat quietly in the corner seat of the bar table the team had claimed, Alex by his side. He was content to listen to the excited chatter, occasionally chiming into a conversation, but mostly hanging back and observing. Alex was more engaged in the celebration but he was sure to silently check on Ryland periodically, which Ryland appreciated. 

The mood was light and cheerful for the most part, the group of friends cracking jokes as Sam, Ash, and Alex ordered drinks -- Kamal was too young, Ryland hated alcohol, and Lorenzo had assigned himself as the designated driver. 

When the third round of drinks arrived, Alex noticed Ryland's face fall out of the corner of his eye. Holding the fresh beer in his free hand, Alex frowned, feeling Ryland squeeze his other hand anxiously. He sighed, staring down at his drink.

Alex knew how Ryland felt about alcohol, how he felt about Alex's habit. Both of them were well aware of _why_ Alex drinks so heavily, why he hides behind a veil of weed and booze, why he hardly ever lets himself be completely sober. While Ryland wallows in his insecurities, Alex runs from them, never allowing himself the stability of mind to face his demons.

They both also knew what Alex's avoidance did to him. They knew the consequences of his questionable coping mechanisms. Ryland had woken up in the middle of the night to Alex puking his guts out enough times for both of them to be well aware.

Staring down at the beer in front of him, Alex hesitantly returned the squeeze to his hand, looking over at Ryland with a nervous smile.

"I… uhm…" Alex quickly halted, his mouth snapping shut. Ryland looked at him curiously, an eyebrow arched in prompting, and all Alex could see was the openness, the acceptance in the other man's eyes. Setting his jaw, Alex swallowed, his mind made up.

Clearing his throat, Alex turned back to the table, pushing his beer towards Ash. "Hey, you want this?" Alex asked, plastering a relaxed expression on his face. At her questioning glance, Alex simply shrugged, a twinge of anxiety surfacing beneath his carefree facade. Ash stared at him, her expression softening ever so slightly, and she accepted the offered drink without another word.

Alex didn't say anything else, ordering a glass of water as opposed to a new beer. Ryland, fully knowing how significant this was, didn't make a big deal out of it, just subtly leaning closer and squeezing Alex's hand again.

Smiling hesitantly, Alex resisted the urge to sigh. Sure, he'd made the decision completely on impulse, but he did owe it to Ryland to be better. Ryland hated how often he drank, hated how dependent he was on the effects of alcohol. Alex had wanted to cut down on drinking for a while now, knowing full well how bad of a habit it was, and tonight was as good a time as any, right?

Shaking his head, Alex began subconsciously bouncing his leg, his nerves getting the better of him. He wasn’t going to back down, he _wouldn’t_. He could do this! Ryland was here, Ryland would help him! Ryland would help him get through this, just like he said Alex had helped him. He just had to stick to it. Just had to hold out.

Ryland did it on his own, though. Ryland was getting better because _Ryland_ was strong enough. Alex may have helped him, but Ryland fought his own fight, earned his own success. Alex would have to do the same. Ryland could help him, Ryland _would_ help him, but Alex had to do this on his own. He had to be strong, strong like Ryland.

As the night carried on and Alex's buzz began to fade, familiar anxieties began to bubble up from deep in his subconscious. He looked around the table, forcing away the thought that he didn't deserve these people, the worry that they'd all see him for what he is, the fear that they'd all leave him when they did. He could do this, he had to be strong. For his own sake. For _Ryland_.

Alex forced himself to ignore the panic bubbling up in his chest, to disregard the familiar terror that seized his mind and dominated his thoughts. It had been so long since he’d faced it head-on; since he’d allowed himself to acknowledge this ever-present underlying dread.

It was just as intimidating as he remembered.

Ryland frowned as he noticed Alex's relaxed smile fade, his grin growing tight and insincere. Alex, for all his advocacy of openness and shared emotions, was very reserved about his struggles and anxieties. Ryland had never gotten a clear explanation of Alex's fears, but he had still managed to gather a general understanding of what kept the other man tethered to the mind-altering substances he was so reliant upon.

Fishing his phone out of his pocket, Ryland opened a new group chat, clumsily typing out a quick message.

* * *

**RYLAND:**  
_hey. alex needs cheering up. any ideas?_

**KAMAL:**  
_tell me why i care_

**LORENZO:**  
_He appears to be fine to me?_

**RYLAND:**  
_idk. he worries a bunch nd he's sobering up._

**RYLAND:**  
_he’s thinking about stuff_

**ASH:**  
_you have to tell us what kind of stuff or we can't do shit about it._

**RYLAND:**  
_it's not like i'm him._

**SAM:**  
_no dont you know? rylands a mind reader_

**ASH:**  
_yeah but clearly you have some idea what's bothering him_

**ASH:**  
_otherwise you wouldn't bring it up._

**SAM:**  
_ok. true._

* * *

Ryland bit his lip, staring down at his phone screen. He had a pretty good idea of what was on Alex's mind, but he also knew it wasn't his place to say. He decided to play it safe, keeping his explanation vague.

* * *

**RYLAND:**  
_idk_

**RYLAND:**  
_alex doesn't think very highly of himself._

**RYLAND:**  
_worries he's not helpful n people don't like him and shit_

**SAM:**  
_dont we all_

**ASH:**  
_okay cool._

**ASH:**  
_got it._

**RYLAND:**  
_got what?_

**ASH:**  
_just follow my lead_

**SAM:**  
_wh_

**KAMAL:**  
_no fuck you_

* * *

Pocketing his phone again, Ryland looked up to see Ash doing the same. Sam glanced between the two of them, an eyebrow raised questioningly.

"Hey, Alex," Ash started, leaning towards Alex across the table. Alex blinked, forcing himself out of his head, and smiled tiredly at her.

"I just wanted to thank you for helping us get to Bloodmatch. We couldn't have come this far without you cheering us on."

Alex blinked a few more times, a blush lightly coloring his face as he silently stared at Ash.

"Oh, uh, thanks, Ash," he said, stumbling over his words. "I didn't do much, though! You guys are the real winners!" While Ryland frowned at Alex's deflection, Sam seemed to have picked up on what Ash was going for, shaking her head with a smirk.

"Are you kidding? We would've given up months ago if it wasn't for you," Sam said. Kamal rolled his eyes at that, muttering something to himself, catching Sam's attention. "What, am I wrong?"

Turning to the table at large, Sam continued. "Honestly, who here actually thought we could beat Lucid Nightmare when we started?" Ash shook her head with a grin, and Kamal frowned but didn't dispute her.

"That is true," Lorenzo added, nodding in agreement. "Your relentless optimism and enthusiasm is certainly a large part of why I thought we could do anything substantial, to be completely honest."

Alex was completely stunned, his face bright red. Ryland grinned when Alex turned to look at him, squeezing his hand again.

"Yeah dude," Ryland said, "you're awesome."

There was so much more that Ryland wanted to say, so much more he wanted to tell Alex. He wanted to tell him just how much he meant to Ryland, how much he meant to everyone. He wanted Alex to know how far he's come, how beloved and wonderful he is, how much Ryland treasured him. He wanted to tell him so much, so much that he couldn't say, couldn't put into words. He couldn’t express just how important Alex was, so Ryland just smiled and hoped he would understand.

"Guys…" Alex mumbled, blinking a few more times. Ryland noticed that he was tearing up slightly and quickly suppressed the urge to wrap him in a hug, settling for nudging him with his foot in what he hoped was a reassuring way. Kamal was still frowning, and Ash elbowed him, giving him a meaningful glare.

“Yeah, yeah…” he grumbled, crossing his arms and turning to face Alex. “You’re like… weirdly energetic, I guess? It’s kinda impressive, actually. How goddamn optimistic you are and shit.” The rest of the team couldn’t help but laugh at Kamal’s attempt at a compliment, Alex leaning against Ryland as he giggled cheerily.

As the group calmed down Ryland saw the somewhat far off look return to Alex’s eyes, but it felt different this time. Less downtrodden, less anxious. He appeared to be processing, a small smile on his face and a faint blush still dusting his cheeks. Whatever he was thinking about appeared to finally click for him, and Alex turned to look at Ryland, beaming brightly.

Ryland smiled back sheepishly, darting his eyes away. Alex leaned forward, bumping his head against Ryland’s shoulder with a grin. Ryland realized that Alex must have noticed him on his phone and put together that Ryland was responsible for the seemingly unprompted compliments from the team.

“Thanks, Ry-Ry,” he said, quietly enough that the others couldn’t hear. Ryland grumbled, now sporting a light blush to match Alex’s. Alex’s face brightened when he saw that and he leaned back, turning to address the entire table.

“Hey, guys, I need to thank you all too.” The whole team turned to face Alex, the scattered conversation that popped up in the lull abruptly coming to an end. “Like… for real, you were all fucking amazing.”

“Don’t start with the sentimental bullshit,” Kamal scoffed, rolling his eyes dramatically. The others all shot him dirty looks, some preparing to object, but Alex beat them all to the punch.

“Kamal, you were _on fire,_” Alex said, fixing Kamal with an open smile. “Like, that double murder play against Lucid Nightmare? Fuckin' amazing!”

Kamal was clearly caught off guard, floundering for a few seconds. He eventually grinned hesitantly, trying to appear confident, and crossed his arms behind his head.

“Psh, of course,” Kamal said, “you’re all fuckin’ losers without me.” Sam rolled her eyes and gave Ash a disbelieving look to which Ash nodded, smiling back at her. Alex’s grin only grew wider, clearly proud of himself.

“Sam, you were great too!” Sam blinked, turning back to Alex. “You were the best tank out there by far!” Sam grinned, nudging Kamal teasingly. “Ash, you were amazing; you basically led the team out of the loser's bracket!” Ash smirked, flashing a peace sign and nodding casually at Alex.

“Alex is right, you all played very well,” Lorenzo said, a slightly disappointed undertone to his voice.

“And Lorenzo!” Alex cried, pointing at him dramatically. Lorenzo blinked, jumping slightly.

“Uh, me?”

“Yeah, you! You were fucking awesome, too! Your healing was _on point_ and you kept using your ult at the right time!”

“Yeah,” Ash agreed, “we couldn’t’ve won this without you.”

“And we couldn’t have done jack shit without your money,” Kamal added, smirking.

“Aw, thanks, you guys!” Lorenzo said, smiling widely. Ryland, who had been watching on quietly, found himself smiling once again.

“Yeah, you all did great,” Ryland commented, looking pointedly at Alex as he did. To his surprise, Alex was looking back at him with a slightly mischievous look in his eye.

“You too, Rylie!” Alex said, grinning.

“_Rylie?_” Kamal snickered. Alex didn’t acknowledge the teasing comment, continuing.

“You’re an _incredible_ Killcore player! You won the match against Lucid Nightmare! You’re, like, the backbone of this whole team!”

“Dude, shut up,” Ryland mumbled, his blush growing darker. Ash and Sam both started grinning, noticing how hesitant and flustered Ryland was.

“Ryland, you were a goddamn _beast,_” Sam chuckled, and Ash nodded.

“Yeah man, you’re the best Killcore player I’ve ever seen," Ash added, "no contest.” Ryland’s face only got redder, and he frowned and ducked his head down, unsure how to handle the compliments. Alex only giggled, raising their joined hands and squeezing reassuringly.

The conversation among the group continued, the general mood much lighter than before. None of them was the type to be especially sentimental, all preferring to brush off more delicate emotions with light conversation or joking banter. As a result, no one wanted to linger on the topic for very long, all simply content to simply spend time with these people whom they had bonded with so deeply.

Tomorrow they’d have to start planning for the future of the team, possibly moving into a new house, and begin the long preparation for next year’s Bloodmatch. Right now, though, none of that mattered. Right now, Esports People was just a group of friends spending time together. Right now, Boogerboss and Alextrifying were just Ryland and Alex.

Right now, they were okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow okay!! it's Done!!!
> 
> usually i have a lot more to say in fics, but i just kinda don't this time!! i hope y'all enjoyed this; it got a lot longer than i thought it would, but i'm really happy with how it turned out!
> 
> thank you again to Vziii for betaing for me!!! also look forward to some more good game stuff in the future because i am. hyperfixating baybee!!

**Author's Note:**

> **EDIT:** this fic now has a sequel/companion fic! check it out [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23402248/chapters/56084200)


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